UC-NRLF 


TH€ 

UNIVERSITY  Of  CALlfORNIA 
LIBRARY 

C 


€5C  LIQRIS 


A  BERKELEY  YEAR 


A   SHEAF 
OF  NATURE  ESS  ATS 


EDITED  BY  EVA  V.   CARLIN 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE 

WOMEN'S  AUXILIARY  OF  THE  FIRST  UNITARIAN  CHURCH 
OF  BERKELEY,  CALIFORNIA 


1898 


Copyright,   i898,   by 
EVA  V.  CARLIN. 


A  Berkeley 
Year 


380044 


Decorated  by 
LOUISE  M.   KEELER 


FROM  GENESIS  ?O  REVELATION 


For  the  land  is  a  land  of  bills  and  valleys  ;  and  the 
mountains  shall  bring  peace  to  the  people. 

A  bird  of  the  air  shall  carry  the  voice,  and  that 
which  hath  wings  shall  tell  the  matter. 

Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow  ;  they 
toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin :  and  yet  Solomon  in  all  his 
glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these. 

Wisdom  hath  builded  here  her  house  ;  she  hath  hewn 
out  her  seven  pillars.  She  is  a  tree  of  life  to  them  that 
lay  hold  upon  her :  and  happy  is  the  man  that  retaineth 
her. 

It  is  a  good  thing  to  call  to  remembrance  the  former 
times,  to  remember  all  the  way  the  Lord,  their  God  hath 
led  the  people  /  when  they  were  but  a  few  men  in  number  ; 
yea,  very  few,  and  strangers  in  the  land. 

We  have  also  a  sure  word  of  prophecy.  Ye  shall  run 
and  not  be  weary  ;  ye  shall  go  out  with  joy,  and  be  led 
forth  with  peace ;  for  the  eyes  of  the  Lord  are  always 
upon  the  land,  from  the  beginning  of  the  year  even  unto 
the  end  of  the  year. 


CONTENTS 


From  Genesis  to  Revelation  .....  V 

The  Making  of  the  Berkeley  Hills I 

Joseph  Le  Conte 

They  Looked  Through  the  Golden  Gate  ...  9 

William   Carey  Jones 

Lang  Syne 19 

Ed-ward  B.   Payne 

Joy  of  the  Morning       .......          vj 

Edwin  Markham 

A  Glimpse  of  the  Birds  of  Berkeley 31 

Charles  A.   Keehr 

Walks  About  Berkeley 41 

Cornelius  Beach  Bradley 

The  Trees  of  Berkeley 49 

Edward  L.    Greene 

On  Berkeley  Hills         .         .         .         .          .         .        -..'         55 

Adeline  Knapp 

The  Love  of  Life 59 

Willis  L.  Jepson 

A  Berkeley  Bird  and  Wild-Flower  Calendar      ...          65 
Compiled  by  Eva  V.   Car/in  and  Hannah  P.   Stearns 


The  Making  of 
The  Berkeley  Hills 


MONG  the  many  phases  of 
out-door  Berkeley,  I  am  asked 
to  give  a  brief  account  of  that 
one  which  interests  me  most. 
Some,  doubtless,  would  talk 
of  the  beautiful  flowers  which 
mantle  the  hills  like  an  ex- 
quisitely varied  carpet;  some 
of  birds,  their  habits,  their 
color,  their  song;  some  would 
talk  of  the  early  history  of 
Berkeley  and  would  give  rem- 
iniscences of  the  Golden  Age 
of  youthful  Berkeley.  But 
underlying  all  these,  and  form- 
ing the  condition  of  their  ex- 
istence— without  which  there 
never  would  have  been  any 
Berkeley — are  the  Hills  with 
their  rounded  and  infinitely 
varied  forms,  their  noble  out- 
look over  fertile  plain  and 
glistening  Bay  shut  in  beyond 
by  glorious  mountain  ranges 
through  which  the  Golden 
Gate  opens  out  on  the  bound- 
less Pacific.  It  was  this  that 
decided  the  choice  of  the  site 
of  the  University,  and  deter- 
mined the  existence  of  Berkeley. 


The 
Making 

of  the 
Berkeley 

Hills 


The  I  have  thus  given  in  few  words  the  prominent  geo- 

Making     graphical  features  ot  Berkeley.      But  how  came  they  to 
of  the      be  what  they  are?     How  were  they  made  and  when  ? 
Berkeley    These,  our  beloved   Berkeley  Hills,  were  born  of  the 
Hills       Pacific  Ocean  about  the  end  of  the  Miocene  or  mid-ter- 
tiary times.     They  took  on  a  vigorous  second  growth 
about  the  end  of  the  Pliocene  epoch.     Now,  I  well  know 
that  these    terms    convey    little   meaning  to  most  peo- 
ple.    Such  persons  will  immediately  ask,   "  How  long 
ago  was  this  ?     How  many  years  ?  "     I  frankly  confess 
I  do  not  know,  but  I  am  sure  it  is  at  least  a  million  years 
and  perhaps  much  more.      The  geologist,  you  know,  has 
unlimited  credit  in  the  Bank  of  Time,  and  he  is  not 
sparing  of  his  drafts,  as  no  one  is  likely  to  dishonor  them. 
As  soon  as  these  Hills  raised  their  heads  above  the 
ocean,  the  sculpturing  agencies  of  sun  and  air,  of  rain 
and  rivers  commenced  their  work  of  modeling  them  into 
forms  of  beauty.     Slowly  but    steadily,  unhasting    yet 
unresting,  the  sculpturing  has  gone  on  from  that  time  till 
now.       The  final  results  are   the   exquisitely   modeled 
forms,  so  familiar,  and  yet  so  charming. 

These  Hills,  therefore,  like  all  mountains,  were  formed 
by  upheaval,  or  by  igneous  forces  at  the  time  mentioned; 
but  all  the  details  of  their  scenery — every  peak  or  round- 
ed knob,  every  deep  canon  or  gentle  swale,  is  the  re- 
sult of  subsequent  sculpturing  by  water.  If  the  greater 
masses  were  determined  by  interior  forces,  all  the  lesser 
outlines — all  that  constitutes  scenery — were  due  to  exte- 
rior forces.  If  the  one  kind  of  force  rough-hewed,  the 
other  shaped  into  forms  of  beauty. 


In  those   golden  miocene  days,  with  their  abundant         The 
rain,  their  warm  climate  and  luxuriant  forest-vegetation,      Making 
life    was    even    more    abundant    than    now.      The    sea      of  the 
swarmed  with  animals  of  many  kinds,   but  nearly   all     Berkeley 
different  from  those  we  now  find.      The  remains  of  these        Hills 
are  still  found  abundantly  in  the  rocks,  and  a  rich  harvest 
rewards  the  geological  rambler  over  the  hills,  with  ham- 
mer in  hand.      The  land,  too,  was  overrun  by  beasts  of 
many  kinds  characteristic  of  the  times.      Some  of  these 
extinct  animals,  both  of  sea  and  land,  I  think,  we  must 
sorely    regret;    for    example:    little,    three-toed    horses, 
much  smaller  than  the  smallest  Shetland  pony,  roamed  in 
herds  over  our  new-born  hills.      We  have  not,  indeed, 
yet  found  them  in  Berkeley  rocks,  but  abundantly  in  rocks 
of  the  same  age  not  very  far  away.     They  probably  visited 
our  hills.     We  cannot  but  regret  that  these  pretty  little 
horses  were  too  early  for  our  boys,  and  indeed  for  any  boys, 
for  man  had  not  yet  entered  to  take  possession  of  his  herit- 
age.    Again:    Oysters,  such  as  would  astonish  a  latter- 
day    Californian,    existed   in    such    numbers    that    they 
formed  great  oyster-banks.     Their  agglomerated  shells, 
each  shell  five  to  six  inches  long,  and  three  to  four  inches 
wide,  form  masses  three  feet  thick,  and  extending  for 
miles.     These  are  found  in  the  Berkeley  Hills;  but  else- 
where in  California,  Miocene  and  Pliocene  oysters  are 
found,  thirteen  inches  long,  eight  inches  wide,  and  six 
inches  thick.     Alas  for  the  degeneracy  of  their  descend- 
ants,  the  modern   California  oyster.      And  yet,   upon 
second  thought,  there  may  be  nothing  to  regret.     It  may 
well  be  that  in  the  gradual  decrease  in  size  the  flavor 


The        has  been   correspondingly  intensified.     It  may  be   that 

Making     what  was  then  diffused  through  a  great  mass  of  flesh  and 

of  the      therefore  greatly  diluted,  was  all  conserved  and  concen- 

Berkeley    trated  into  the  exquisite  piquancy  characteristic  of  the 

Hills       little  California  oyster  of  the  present  day.     If  so,  we 

are  consoled. 

But  the  character  of  the  Berkeley  Hills  was  not  yet 
fully  formed.  Still  later  there  came  hard  times  for 
Berkeley.  But  hard  times  are  often  necessary  for  the 
perfecting  of  character,  and  therefore  we  do  not  regret 
the  next  age.  There  was  for  Berkeley,  as  for  other 
places,  an  Ice-age.  An  Arctic  rigor  of  climate  suc- 
ceeded the  genial  warmth  of  Tertiary  times.  Our  hills 
were  completely  mantled  with  an  ice-sheet  moving  sea- 
ward, ploughing,  raking  and  harrowing  their  surfaces; 
smoothing,  rounding  and  beautifying  their  outlines.  The 
materials  thus  gathered  were  mixed  and  kneaded  and 
spread  over  the  plains,  enriching  the  soil,  and  preparing 
it  for  the  occupancy  of  man — not  yet  come. 

Last  of  all — last  stage  of  this  eventful  history — came 
man.  When  did  he  come  ?  Was  there  a  Pliocene  man, 
and  was  his  skull  really  found  in  Calaveras  ?  If  any  one 
is  interested  in  this  famous  controversy,  let  him  consult 
Professor  Whitney  on  the  one  side,  and  Bret  Harte  on 
the  other. 

But,  certainly,  evidences  of  Prehistoric  man  are  abund- 
ant all  over  California,  and  nowhere  more  so  than  in 
and  about  Berkeley.  Those  interested  in  this  subject 
will  find  abundant  material. 

I  have  thus  given  in  bare  outline,  the  birth,  growth, 


and  character-making  of  the   Berkeley  Hills  and  Plains,  The 

in  preparation  for  the  occupancy  of  civilized  man.     The  Making 

work  of    the  Geologist  is  done.      The  Historian  must  of  the 

take  it  up  at  this  point.      I  have  laid  the  ground-work;  Berkeley 

others  must  build  thereon.  Hills 

JOSEPH  LE  CONTE. 


They   Looked  Through 
the   Golden    Gate 


EFORE  the  face  of  the  white 
man  came  and  showed  that  na- 
ture here  was  to  be  devoted  to 
exalted  ends,  the  aboriginal  in- 
habitants had  dwelt  for  genera- 
tions on  the  shores  that  front 
the  Golden  Gate.  They  left 
mementoes  of  themselves  at  the 
embarcaderosotfaz  creeks,  Tem- 
escal,  Cordonices,  San  Pablo, 
in  the  larger  and  smaller 
"mounds,"  that  tell  by  their 
contents  of  the  form  and  style 
of  man  himself,  of  his  utensils 
and  his  foods.  They  looked 
through  the  Golden  Gate,  but 
not  with  the  keen  and  perfected 
vision  that  responds  to  high  in- 
tellectual and  spiritual  emotions. 
They  lived  the  little  life  of  in- 
cipient humanity,  their  hates 
and  loves  and  a  vague  surmise 
of  a  Great  Spirit  alone  testify- 
ing to  the  potentialities  of  their 
kind. 

But  one  day  —  March  27, 
1772,  for  'tis  interesting  to  fix 
the  dates  of  our  scanty  anniver- 
saries— representing  the  spiritual 
and  temporal  arms  of  Spain,  the 


Looked 
Through 

the 

Golden 
Gate 


n 


They       fore-leaders  of  the  gente  de  razon,  Padre  Juan  Crespi  and 
Looked     Lieutenant   Pedro  Fages,   and  their  dozen  companions, 
Through    passed  along  the  Contra  Costa  shore,  and  looked  through 
the         the  Golden  Gate.     They  knew,  indeed,  that  they  were 
Golden      opposite  the  "  mouth  by  which  the  great  estuaries  com- 
Gate       municate  with  the  Ensenada  de  los  Farallones."     They 
had  left  Monterey  on  March  2Oth;  on  the  25th  they  had 
encamped  on  Alameda  Creek,  near  the  site  of  the  later 
Vallejo  Mill,  the  ruin  whereof  yet  standeth,  or  the  pres- 
ent Niles.     They  crossed  the  San  Leandro  and  San  Lo- 
renzo creeks  and  reached  the  beautiful  encinal — the  oak- 
clothed  peninsula  of  Alameda.     They  passed  around  "  an 
estuary,  which  skirting  the  grove,  extends  four  or  five 
leagues  inland  until  it  heads  in  the  sierra,"  and  came 
out  upon  the  verdant,  blooming  plain.      But  the  eye, 
even  of  the  gente  de  razon,  was  not  illumined.     They 
sought  the  harbor  of  San  Francisco  underneath  the  prom- 
ontory of  Point  Reyes,  and  searching  for  that  which  was 
valueless,  recognized  not  the  surpassing  worth  of  what 
lay  at  their  feet.     They  looked  through  the  Golden  Gate 
in  vain. 

But  the  Franciscans  were  not  to  be  daunted  in  their 
purpose  of  finding  their  patron  saint's  anchorage.  And 
so  now  they  seek  it  again,  this  time  by  sea,  and  Juan  de 
Ayala,  Lieutenant  in  the  royal  navy  of  Spain,  in  the 
ship  San  Carlos,  on  August  I,  1775,  sailed  through  the 
never-before  traversed  waters  of  the  Golden  Gate  into 
the  hospitable  harbor.  The  real  San  Francisco  was  illu- 
sive; this  port  is  now  thought  good  enough  to  be  dedi- 
cated to  the  great  Saint  Francis. 


12 


Then  came  the  founding  of  the  Mission  of  San  Jose, 
June  n,  1797,  under  the  scholarly  Father  Lasuen. 
This  prosperous  mission  and  first  settlement  in  Alameda 
County  was  from  1803  to  1833  under  the  charge  of  the 
famous  Father  Duran.  Passing  up  and  down  the  shore 
in  gradually  growing  numbers  the  Spanish  Californians 
looked  through  the  Golden  Gate.  The  princely  San 
Antonio  rancho,  fifteen  leagues  in  extent,  was,  in  1 8  20, 
conferred  by  Governor  Pablo  Vincente  de  Sola  on  Don 
Luis  Peralta.  In  1843  Don  Luis,  in  company  with  his 
four  sons  rode  across  the  domain,  and  with  eye  and  ges- 
ture surveyed  and  partitioned  it  into  four  shares.  The 
most  southerly,  in  the  neighborhood  of  San  Leandro, 
was  assigned  to  Ygnacio;  the  next,  proceeding  north, 
including  Alameda  and  Brooklyn,  to  Antonio  Maria; 
the  third,  covering  the  Encinal  de  Temescal,  or  Oakland, 
to  Vincente,  and  the  northernmost,  including  the  mod- 
ern Berkeley,  to  Jose  Domingo.  Peraltas,  Castros,  and 
Pachecos,  worthy  families  in  the  romantic  background  of 
our  history,  settled  along  the  shore  and  looked  daily 
through  the  Golden  Gate.  The  Castro  home,  at  the 
margin  of  Cerrito  Creek,  on  the  San  Pablo  highway, 
screened  by  the  Alta  Punta,  still  yields  testimony  to  the 
first  habitations  of  the  genie  de  razon. 

Perhaps  a  broadening  vision  was  given  to  the  mind 
that  daily  fed  upon  the  scene  around  them.  They  had 
anyhow  established  a  settlement  and  a  place  of  growing 
allurement  to  American  adventure,  ambition  and  enter- 
prise. The  American  came;  he  looked  through  the 
Golden  Gate,  and  his  soul  was  uplifted.  Senator  Ben- 


Tbey 

Looked 
Through 

the 

Golden 
Gate 


They       ton  had  said,  his  mental  vision  discerning  its  true  signifi- 

Looked     cance,  «'  There  is  the  East;  there  lies  the  road  to  India." 

Through    And  Fremont,  standing  upon  the  castellated  crag  of  La 

the         Loma,  eyes  filled  with  the  refulgent  beauty  of  the  scene, 

Golden      senses  astir  with  emotion,  and  mind  prescient  of  poten- 

Gate       tialities,  looked  through,  as  well  as  named,  that  "  road 

of  passage  and  union  between  two  hemispheres ' '    THE 

GOLDEN  GATE.      On  his  map  of  1848  he  wrote 

opposite  this  entrance  "  Chrysopylae,  or  Golden  Gate," 

"  for   the   same   reason   that   the  harbor  of  Byzantium, 

afterwards   Constantinople,  was   called     Cbrysoceras,  or 

Golden  Horn." 

The  fifties  brought  American  settlers,  Shattuck,  Blake, 
Hillegass,  Leonard,  and  others,  who  built  their  homes 
and  prepared  the  land  for  the  coming  army  of  peaceful 
occupants.  The  American  tiller  of  the  soil  looked 
through  the  Golden  Gate,  and  his  own  and  his  chil- 
dren 's  minds  were  made  larger  and  happier  by  the  aspira- 
tions and  ideals  it  suggested. 

As  Fremont  had  looked  and  had  beheld  with  all-en- 
compassing mind  the  boundless  resources  and  possibilities 
springing  from  nature  and  from  man's  puissant  hand,  so 
now  looked  Henry  Durant,  controlled  by  one  domina- 
ting thought.  "  He  had  set  out  to  seek  a  place  where 
learning  might  find  a  peaceful  home  on  our  Pacific  shore. ' ' 
"And  he  had  come  to  the  spot,  where,"  narrates  the 
brilliant  Felton,  "rising  calmly  from  the  sunlit  bay,  the 
soft  green  slope  ascended,  gently  at  first,  and  then  more 
abruptly,  till  it  became  a  rugged  storm-worn  mountain 
and  then  disappeared  in  the  sky.  As  he  gazed  upon  the 


glowing  landscape  he  knew  he  had  found  it.  He  had 
found  what  he  sought  through  life.  Not  alone  the 
glory  of  the  material  landscape  drew  from  him  the  cry, 
'  Eureka,  I  have  found  it ! '  Before  him,  on  that  beau- 
tiful spring  morning,  other  scenes,  invisible  save  to  him, 
passed  before  his  mental  vision.  On  the  hill  that  looks 
out  through  the  Golden  Gate  he  saw  the  stately  edifice 
opening  wide  its  gates  to  all,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the 
woman  and  the  man;  the  spacious  library  loomed  up 
before  him,  with  its  well-filled  shelves,  bringing  together 
in  ennobling  communion  the  souls  of  the  great  and  good 
of  past  ages  with  the  souls  of  the  young,  fresh  starters 
in  the  onward  march  of  progress.  In  its  peaceful  walls 
those  who  had  made  a  new  goal  for  progress  were  urg- 
ing on  their  descendants  to  begin  where  their  career  had 
ended,  and  to  recognize  no  good  as  final  save  that  which 
ends  in  perfect  and  entire  knowledge.  And  before  him 
in  long  procession  the  shadowy  forms  defiled  of  those  to 
come.  Standing  on  the  heights  of  Berkeley  he  bade  the 
distant  generations  '  Hail !  '  and  saw  them  rising,  (  de- 
manding life  impatient  for  the  skies '  from  what  were 
then  fresh,  unbounded  wildernesses  on  the  shore  of  the 
great  tranquil  sea. 

"  He  welcomed  them  to  the  treasures  of  science  and 
the  delight  of  learning,  to  the  immeasurable  good  of 
rational  existence,  the  immortal  hopes  of  Christianity, 
the  light  of  everlasting  truth. 

"And  so,  hero  and  sage,  the  memory  of  whose 
friendship  raises  me  in  my  own  esteem,  I  love  to  think 
of  thee.  I  love  to  think  of  thee  thus  standing  on  the 


They 
Looked 
Through 

the 

Golden 
Gate 


They       heights  of  Berkeley,  with   the   strong  emotion  lighting 

Looked     thy  features  and  the  cry  'Eureka!  '  on  thy  lips,  as  thy 

Through    gaze  goes  through  the  Golden  Gate  to  the  broad  Pacific 

the         Ocean  beyond." 

Golden  On  March  I,  1858,  the  site  was  made  the  permanent 
Gate  location  for  the  College  of  California,  and  on  April  16, 
1860,  it  was  dedicated  with  formal  ceremony  and  a 
prayer  that  it  might  be  "  a  blessing  to  the  youth  of  this 
State,  and  a  center  of  usefulness  in  all  this  part  of  the 
world." 

Frederick  Billings,  name  of  honored  power  in  the 
community,  had  looked,  as  one  of  this  dedicatory  com- 
pany, through  the  Golden  Gate.  His  was  the  inspired 
function  to  name  the  intellectual  seat  that  lay  facing  Fre- 
mont's Chrysopylae.  The  good  Bishop  of  Cloyne,  the 
imperishable  philosopher,  who  had  longed  for  a  spot  "so 
placed  geographically  as  to  be  fitted  to  spread  religion 
and  learning  in  a  spiritual  commerce  over  the  western 
regions  of  the  world,"  gave  the  note  to  Billings'  inspira- 
tion, who  christened  the  spot  that  looks  eternally  through 
the  Golden  Gate  BERKELEY. 

By  and  by  others'  steps  were  led  to  Berkeley,  agents 
of  the  State  and  those  who  not  agents  were  yet  lovers  of 
California.  Founders  of  the  private  college  had  thought 
that  the  mind  of  youth  would  be  broadened  when  their 
imagination  might  be  nourished  by  soaring  afar  upon  the 
boundless  ocean.  And  now  the  planters  of  the  State's 
University  saw  the  wisdom  of  those  who  had  chosen 
Berkeley  as  education's  home,  and  accepting  the  gracious 
gift  of  private  effort,  made  that  the  State's  intellectual 

16 


center.  And  here  generations  of  California's  flower  of 
manhood  and  womanhood  have  looked  through  the 
Golden  Gate  of  ever-broadening  insight.  Dead  and 
useless  is  the  soul  of  youth  or  man,  of  student  or  profes- 
sor, that  has  not  daily,  by  nature's  presence  about  him, 
felt  his  spirit  lifted  ever  to  higher  things.  An  education 
of  priceless  worth  is  born  within  the  mind  that  rightly 
combines  in  intimate  development  the  intellectual  treas- 
ures gathered  in  academic  halls  and  the  golden  impres- 
sions that  nature  here  unceasingly  lends. 

Yet  once  again  a  prescient  eye  looks  through  the 
Golden  Gate.  A  home  of  refined  and  splendid  architect- 
ure is  to  be  builded  for  a  University  of  worthy  achieve- 
ment and  yet  richer,  nobler  possibilities.  The  world's 
best  genius  is  invoked  to  match  nature's  rarest  creation 
with  art's  choicest  work.  The  mind  of  Phebe  Apper- 
son  Hearst  had  looked  through  the  Golden  Gate. 

WM.  CAREY  JONES. 


They 

Looked 

Through 

the 
Golden 

Gate 


Lang  Syne 


IRTHS  and  Beginnings  !  —  the 
world  will  never  weary  of  trac- 
ing them,  that  it  may  say,  "  Be- 
hold here  is  the  seed,  the  plan- 
tation, from  which  this  vital 
growth  sprang.''  Especially  so 
if  myth  and  legend  have  gath- 
ered about  the  genesis  of  a  man 
or  a  community,  so  that  origins 
are  obscured  in  the  tinted  mists 
of  a  far  horizon.  Ages  hence 
some  historian  will  curiously  un- 
wrap the  dreamfolds  in  which 
Berkeley's  earliest  records  will 
then  be  involved,  and  the  local 
traditions  will  have  antiquarian 
corners  assigned  to  them  in  the 
libraries  of  Town  and  University. 
That  this  is  not  yet,  Berkeley 
cannot  reasonably  be  reproached. 
It  got  itself  into  human  time  as 
early  as  it  could,  and  we  must 
wait  patiently  until  the  dust  has 
gathered  on  the  vestiges  of  its 
origin  and  made  them  relics  of 
antiquity. 

Time,  however,  has  wrought 
for  us  here  already  an  ample  per- 
spective for  the  pictures  of  Rem- 
iniscence. Inasmuch  as  we  can 


Lang 

Syne 


21 


Lang  but  glance  hastily  at  a  few  of  these,  we  will  not  look 
Syne  back  too  far ;  let  it  be,  say,  to  the  first  five  years  of  the 
quarter  century  that  ends  with  this  year  of  Ninety-eight. 
Those  who  dwelt  here  then  should  be  pardoned  if  they 
venture  to  speak  of  that  period  as  "  the  good  old  times." 
It  was  the  bucolic  age  of  Berkeley,  which  was  then,  for 
the  most  part,  about  as  God  and  Nature  and  the  plough- 
ings  of  a  few  ranchmen  had  made  it.  To  be  sure,  Ed- 
ucation, in  its  prime  right,  had  secured  and  set  apart  for 
University  grounds  some  two  hundred  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful acres  of  Nature's  wild  estate.  Also,  about  a  score 
of  dwellings  were  scattered  here  and  there.  But  by  far 
the  larger  part  had  the  appearance  of  open  common. 
The  streets,  (then  only  country  roads,)  were  few;  but 
numerous  footpaths  ran  in  all  directions  and  led  straight 
across  the  fields  to  everybody's  door.  There  was  hardly 
a  right-angled  corner  to  turn,  in  all  the  eastern  portion  of 
the  town.  Even  the  iron  rails  of  the  S.  P.  turned  aside 
in  a  graceful  curve  to  avoid  the  immovable  cabin  of  Mrs. 

n.     Detached  patches  of  grain  and  hay  ripened 

under  the  July  sunshine.  Everywhere  else  the  assertive 
tarweed  flourished,  to  smear  with  its  black  mucilage  the 
trouser-leg  and  the  trailing  skirt.  The  summer  trade- 
winds  caught  up  a  glory  of  dust  into  clouds  that  rivaled 
the  fog.  In  clear  and  quiet  weather  each  dwelling  en- 
joyed an  unobstructed  view  of  the  Bay,  and  the  opening 
into  the  Pacific  seemed  so  wide  and  ample  that  every 
resident,  from  Temescal  almost  to  San  Pablo,  claimed 
for  his  own  house  the  distinction  of  being  "  exactly 
opposite  the  Golden  Gate."  The  hills,  eastward,  held 


22 


out  as  to-day  their  irresistible  invitation  to  the  stroller,  Lang 
but  wore  the  grace  of  a  more  perfect  solitude  than  now.  Syne 
One  might  wander  there  all  day  and  be  utterly  alone  ex- 
cept for  the  browsing  kine,  the  bleating  sheep,  and  the 
inquisitive  ground  squirrel.  The  glistening  roofs  of  Oak- 
land and  San  Francisco  appeared  to  be  farther  away  than 
now  from  the  lonely  and  rugged  summit  of  Grizzly. 
Indeed,  all  Berkeley  seemed  much  closer  and  more  akin 
to  nature  than  to  the  world  of  men.  Alas  !  (though 
this  may  be  lamentable  to  only  a  reminiscent  mood,) 
that  a  city  should  have  arisen  here,  driving  back  the  line 
of  Nature's  outposts,  and  covering  her  simplicities  under 
a  crust  of  civilized  improvements  ! 

Even  the  University  was  not  so  imposing  as  to-day, 
and  seemed  to  the  visitor  more  like  a  pioneer  home  of 
learning  than  an  institution  of  world-wide  relations  and 
reputation.  No  one  can  begrudge  to  education  the  mul- 
tiplied facilities  of  the  present  time,  but  there  was  much 
that  is  memorable  in  the  status  of  those  early  days. 
Characterized  as  it  was  by  experimentation  and  the  strug- 
gles incident  to  scanty  resources  and  the  uncertainties  of 
popular  support,  it  challenged  the  sympathetic  and  active 
interest  of  all  lovers  of  liberal  culture,  and  at  all  times, 
the  little  community  here  was  a  unit  in  championship  of 
the  University  as  against  the  outcries  of  prejudiced  par- 
ties throughout  the  State. 

Perhaps  this  committal  to  a  common  cause  was  what 
gave  to  the  people  of  the  place  a  social  unity  also  in  that 
period.  Moreover,  we  were  hardly  many  enough  then 
for  factions  and  cliques,  and  the  tracing  of  those  occultly 

23 


Lang  determined  lines  which  mark  off  social-  zones  and  tem- 
Syne  peratures.  We  enjoyed  that  pioneer  sense  of  a  general 
community  of  interests  which  characterizes  the  early 
stages  of  every  growing  society.  Alas  !  that  it  so  invari- 
ably passes,  when  the  tally  of  social  units  becomes  the 
census  of  a  multitude  !  How  will  it  be,  we  may  wonder, 
with  the  one  hundred  and  forty-four  thousand,  bearing 
the  seal  of  sainthood,  and  gathered  out  of  the  earth, 
according  to  the  Apocalypse,  to  swell  the  happy  popula- 
tion of  heaven  ? 

However  it  may  be  with  the  angelic  multitude  in  the 
future  day,  it  is  certain  that  the  distinctly  human  and 
earthly  dwellers  in  Berkeley,  twenty  and  twenty-five 
years  ago,  were  disposed  to  a  generous  and  genial  social 
grace.  The  free  sociability  of  that  time  is  a  happy 
memory.  The  paths  joining  dwelling  to  dwelling  were 
the  worn  ways  of  an  impartial  good-neighborhood.  So, 
also,  the  trails  among  the  hills  ;  they  testified  to  the  ram- 
ble and  loiter  of  a  chummy  comradeship  unchilled  by 
hesitations.  And  it  was  even  true  that  for  a  considerable 
time  we  had  here  but  a  single  church,  in  which  the 
variant  faiths  forgot  their  divergencies  and  coalesced  in 
a  unity  of  the  spirit  for  the  worship  of  the  One  Father. 
Good  old  times ! 

Some  of  the  conspicuous  figures  of  that  earlier  circle 
still  move  in  the  larger  round  of  Berkeley  life.  They 
need  not  to  be  named  here  ;  they  are  among  the  specially 
honored  citizens  of  our  present  day,  or  hold  their  places 
in  the  University  faculty  through  the  deserts  of  their 
fidelity,  wisdom,  and  beneficent  achievements.  Others 


are  now  elsewhere  in   the  world  of  men,  putting   their       Lang 
hands  to  useful   task   and  honorable  service.     And  yet        Syne 
others  have  "crossed  the  bar,"  and  sailed  forth  through 
"Gates  of   Gold"  to  that  far  continent  of  our  faith, 
built  of  "the  substance  of  things  hoped  for." 

May  we  not  fittingly  name  two  or  three  of  these  last, 
in  token  of  a  memory  as  touching  them  which  no  autumn 
of  time  will  cause  to  fade  and  grow  sere  ?  Among  them 
was  C.  T.  H.  Palmer,  whose  native  keenness  of  intel- 
lect, and  preeminent  social  geniality  transmuted  even  a 
disability  into  a  much  appreciated  advantage,  as  an  ictus 
for  his  ever  ready  wit,  or  for  the  incisive  utterance  of  his 
unfailing  word  of  wisdom.  There  was  Edward  Row- 
land Sill,  whom  to  know  in  intimacy  was  to  dwell  in  the 
presence  of  a  living  poem,  in  which  the  notes  of  Nature, 
the  accents  of  the  Infinite  Spirit,  and  the  holy  passions 
of  a  human  soul  all  sang  in  harmony,  prophesying  of 
vital  truth.  There,  too,  was  that  scholar  of  foremost  rank, 
the  elder  Le  Conte.  For  in  those  days  there  were  two  to 
be  venerated  and  beloved  under  that  honored  surname  ; 
although  we  more  habitually  "had  reverence  to  them," 
(to  adopt  Mrs.  Partington's  felicitous  misuse  of  a  word,) 
by  substituting  those  titles  of  special  and  affectionate  dis- 
tinction—  "Professor  John,"  and  "Professor  Joe." 
There  were  others  also  with  us  then — like  Hamilton, 
who  dwelt  for  a  time  among  the  trees  on  the  initial  lift 
of  yonder  hill — who  have  since  joined  the  Choir  Invis- 
ible. These  are  now  of  those  "  shadow  men,"  departed 
out  of  the  flesh,  but  living  among  us  still  through  the 


Lang       vital  persistence  of  the  spirit,  and  our  imperishable  re- 
Syne       membrance  of  their  words  and  deeds. 

But  now  as  these  last  lines  are  written  the  bells  are 
ringing  in  an  autumn  day  of  this  1898.  A  glance 
through  the  open  window  reveals  a  new  Berkeley,  the 
hale  and  vigorous  growth  of  a  quarter  century,  testifying 
to  the  developing  power  of  time,  under  the  guidance  of 
a  dynamic  idea  such  as  Education.  In  this  scene  the 
vestiges  of  the  old  Berkeley  are  few,  and  some  of  them 
not  easily  traced.  North  and  South  Halls  stand  yet  on 
their  conspicuous  sites,  to  give  way  eventually,  no  doubt, 
before  the  already  invoked  genius  of  the  world,  bringing 
in  an  architecture  proportionate  to  Nature's  work  as 
here  displayed.  There  are  also  yet  to  be  seen  most  of 
the  few  houses  of  the  former  time  ;  but  when  memory 
knocks  at  the  doors  it  is  only  to  be  met  by  strange  faces 
and  new  voices.  The  Old  has  had  its  day;  the  New  is 
here,  and  prevails  in  its  incontestable  right.  And  while 
we  cherish  the  reminiscent  pictures  of  the  Berkeley  that 
was,  we  rejoice  in  the  Berkeley  that  is  and  is  to  be. 

EDWARD  B.  PAYNE. 


26 


Joy  of 

The  Morning 


HEAR  you,  little  bird,  joy 

Shouting  aswing  above  the  broken  wall,       Of  the 
Shout  louder  yet:  no  song  can  tell  it  all.     Morning 
Sing  to  my  soul  in  the  deep  still  wood 
JTis  wonderful  beyond  the  wildest  word: 
Fd  tell  it,  too,  if  I  could. 


Oft  when  the  white  still  dawn 

Lifted  the  skies  and  pushed  the  hills  apart, 

I've  felt  it  like  a  glory  in  my  heart — 

(The  world's  mysterious  stir) 

But  had  no  throat  like  yours,  my  bird, 

Nor  such  a  listener. 

EDWIN  MARKHAM. 


A  Glimpse  of 

The    Birds  of  Berkeley 


the  seasons  come  and  go,  a  host 
of  birds  tarry  within  the  confines 
of  Berkeley,  some  to  make  their 
nests  and  rear  their  broods,  others 
to  sojourn  for  but  a  brief  interval 
in  passing  from  their  summer  to 
their  winter  haunts,  and  in  the  joy- 
ful return  of  spring.  They  in- 
habit the  spreading  branches  of 
the  live  oaks,  and  the  open  mead- 
ows are  their  home.  They  dwell 
in  the  leafy  recesses  of  the  canons 
and  haunt  the  shrubbery  of  our 
gardens. 

It  is  impossible  to  understand 
our  birds  without  knowing  some- 
thing of  their  surroundings  —  of 
the  lovely  reach  of  ascending 
plain  from  the  bay  shore  to  the 
rolling  slopes  of  the  Berkeley 
Hills  (mountains,  our  eastern 
friends  call  them);  of  the  cold, 
clear  streams  of  water  which  have 
cut  their  way  from  the  hill  crests 
down  into  the  plain,  forming  lovely 
canons  with  great  old  live  oaks  in 
their  lower  and  more  open  por- 
tions, and  sweet-scented  laurel  or 
bay  trees  crowded  into  their  nar- 
rower and  more  precipitous  parts; 


A 

Glimpse 

of  the 

Birds  of 

Berkeley 


33 


A          of  the    great    expanse    of  open    hill  slopes,  green  and 

Glimpse     tender  during  the  months  of  winter  rain,  and  soft  brown 

of  the      and  purple  when  the  summer  sun  has  parched  the  grass 

Birds  of    and  flowers.     These,  with  cultivated  gardens  and  fields 

Berkeley     of  grain,  make  the  environment  of  our  birds,   and  here 

they  live  their  busy  lives. 

There  comes  a  morning  during  the  month  of  Septem- 
ber when  a  peculiarly  clear,  crisp  quality  of  the  air  first 
suggests  the  presence  of  autumn.  It  is  something  intan- 
gible, inexpressible,  but  to  me  vital  and  significant  of 
change.  In  my  morning  walk  I  notice  the  first  red  tips 
upon  the  maple  leaves,  and  catch  the  first  notes  of  au- 
tumn birds.  I  hear  the  call  of  the  red-breasted  nuthatch, 
a  fine,  monotonous,  far-away  pipe,  uttered  in  a  succes- 
sion of  short  notes,  and  upon  looking  among  the  live 
oaks,  detect  the  little  fellow  hopping  about  upon  the 
bark.  He  is  a  mere  scrap  of  a  bird,  with  a  back  of 
bluish  gray  and  a  breast  of  a  dull,  rusty-red  hue,  a  cap  of 
black  and  a  white  stripe  over  the  eye — a  veritable  gnome 
of  the  bark,  upon  which  he  lives  the  year  round.  In 
its  crannies  he  pries  with  his  strong,  sharply-pointed  beak 
for  his  insect  food,  and  in  some  hollow  his  little  mate 
lays  her  eggs  and  rears  her  brood.  With  so  many 
woodpecker  traits  he  nevertheless  differs  widely  in  struc- 
ture from  that  group,  being  more  closely  allied  to  the 
wrens  and  titmice.  He  is  with  us  in  greater  or  less 
abundance  throughout  the  winter,  and  his  very  charac- 
teristic call  may  be  heard  from  time  to  time  both  in  the 
University  Grounds  and  in  the  canons. 

With  the  nuthatches,  come  from  their  northern  breed- 


34 


ing  places,  the  pileolated  warblers,  and  other  shy  wood-          A 
creatures  which  haunt  the  quiet,  out-of-the-way  nooks,      Glimpse 
and  shrirfk  from  the  presence  of  man.      The  pileolated       of  the 
warbler  is  one  of  the  loveliest,  daintiest  creatures  that    Birds  of 
visit  us.     As  I  walk  in  my  favorite  nook  in  the  hills,     Berkeley 
Woolsey's    CaHon,    to    the    north    of     the     University 
Grounds,  I  see  a  lithe,  active,  alert  little  bird,  gleaning 
for  insects  among  the  leaves,  now  high  up  among  the 
branches,  and  again  darting  hither  and  thither  downward 
to  where  the  fine  thread  of  water  has  formed  a  pool, 
there  to  bathe  an  instant  and  then,  with  a  lightsome  toss 
of  spray  flirted  from  its  wings,  to  resume  its  quest  among 
the  bay  leaves.     It  is  a  waif  of  gold  with  a  crown  of 
jet,  and  its  song,  a  sweet,   sudden  burst  of  woodland 
music,  is  quite  in  keeping  with  the  singer. 

Let  me  picture  my  canon  in  the  autumn  time,  when 
the  open  hill-slopes  are  covered  with  tarweed  and  dead 
grass,  and  the  country  roads  are  deep  in  dust.  There  is 
a  quiet,  almost  sacred  feeling  about  the  place,  shut  in  by 
steep  hill-slopes,  crowded  with  bay  trees  through  which 
the  sun  filters  in  scattered  beams,  and  carpeted  with  ferns 
and  fallen  leaves.  Bulrushes,  with  their  long,  graceful 
filaments  encircling  their  jointed  stems,  spring  from  the 
tangle  of  shrubbery,  and  the  broad,  soft  leaves  of  the 
thimbleberry,  now  beginning  to  turn  brown,  fill  in  the 
recesses  with  foliage.  Great  slimy,  yellowish-green 
slugs  cling  to  the  moist  rocks,  and  water-dogs  sprawl 
stupidly  in  the  pools. 

A  loud,  ringing  call  sounds  above  as  a  flicker  comes 
our  way  and  announces  his  presence  with  an  emphatic 

35 


A          ye  up  !    He  is  with  us  all  the  year  through,  and  an  inter- 
Glimpse     esting  fellow,  I  have  found  him.      Not  wholly  a  wood- 
of  the      pecker,  and  yet  too  closely  related  to  that  family  to  be 
Birds  of   widely  parted,    he  is   an   anomaly   in   the    bird   world. 
Berkeley    Sometimes  he  alights  upon  the  ground  and  grubs  for  food 
like  a  meadow  lark,  while  again  he  hops  in  true  wood- 
pecker fashion  upon  the  tree  trunk,  pecking  holes  in  the 
bark.       He    has    the    proud    distinction    of    being    the 
only  California  bird  which  habitually  intermarries  with 
an  eastern  representative  of  the  genus — the  golden-shafted 
flicker  of  the  Atlantic  States  and  the  red-shafted  flicker  of 
the  Pacific  region  intermingling    in  a  most   bewildering 
way,  so  that  hybrids  are  almost  as  numerous  in  some  sec- 
tions as  the  pure  species. 

The  flicker  is  a  large,  showy  bird,  somewhat  greater 
than  a  robin  in  size,  with  a  conspicuous  white  rump- 
patch,  and  with  the  shafts  and  inner  webs  of  the  wings 
and  tail  colored  a  bright  scarlet.  The  male  bird  is  also 
adorned  with  a  streak  of  the  same  color  on  each  side  of 
the  throat.  The  back  is  brown,  closely  barred  with 
black,  and  the  under  parts  are  pinkish  buff,  marked  with 
a  large  black  crescentic  patch  on  the  breast  and  conspicu- 
ous round  black  dots  on  the  lower  portions  of  the  body. 

In  the  spring  time  the  flickers  bore  a  deep  hole  in  a 
decayed  oak  limb  and  the  mother  bird  lays  there  ten  or  more 
of  the  most  beautiful  eggs  which  ever  gladdened  a  mother 
bird's  heart,  save  that  I  fear  her  little  home  is  too  dark 
to  give  her  so  much  as  a  peep  at  her  treasures.  They 
are  white,  with  a  wavy  texture,  like  water  marks  in  the 
shell,  and,  when  fresh,  beautifully  flushed  with  pink, 

36 


more   delicate  in   color  than   a  baby's  ear.     When  the          A 
young  brood  are  all  hatched  what  a  clamoring  and  call-      Glimpse 
ing  there  is  about  that  hole,  what  an  array  of  hungry       of  the 
beaks  are   thrust   out  awaiting  the  morsel  that  the  busy    Birds  of 
parent  carries  to  them  J     But  now,  in  the  autumn  time,     Berkeley 
the  family  cares  are  ended  and  the  flicker  roams  the  wood- 
land contented  and  well  fed.      Long  may  his  piercing, 
buoyant  call  ring  amid  our  hills,  and  his  coat  of  many 
colors  adorn  our  landscape! 

I  cannot  speak  of  noisy  birds  without  recalling  the 
jays,  for  they  are  the  noisiest,  rollicking,  happy-go-lucky 
fellows  that  make  their  home  in  our  canons.  They 
laugh  and  screech  by  turns,  they  question  and  scold. 
Even  when  on  the  wing  they  utter  a  succession  of  loud, 
insistent  call  notes,  and  upon  alighting,  mischievously 
question  in  a  shrill  squeak,  ttiuell?  well?"  I  am  speak- 
ing of  the  California  jay  which  is  the  common  species 
about  Berkeley, — a  long,  rather  slender  fellow,  without 
a  crest  such  as  the  blue-fronted  jay  of  the  redwoods 
possesses.  Its  back  is  colored  blue  and  brownish  gray, 
and  its  breast  is  a  lighter  gray,  edged  and  faintly  streaked 
with  blue.  Its  manners  are  often  quiet  and  dignified 
when  sitting  still  and  eyeing  an  intruder,  not  without  a 
half  scornful,  half  inquisitive  glance,  I  fancy  ;  but  with 
a  sudden  whim  it  is  aroused  to  animation,  flirting  its  tail, 
bending  its  head  on  one  side  and  suddenly  fluttering  away 
with  a  loud  laugh. 

Another  of  my  canon  friends  is  the  wren  tit,  a  bird 
which  is  found  only  in  California,  and  without  a  coun- 
terpart, so  far  as  I  am  aware,  the  world  over.  It  is  a 

37 


A          friend  y  little  fellow,  considerably  smaller  than  a  sparrow, 
Glimpse     but  with  a  long  tail  usually  held  erect  in  true  wren  fash- 
of  the      ion.      Its  plumage  is  soft  and  flufiy  and  its  colors  as 
Birds  of   sober  as  a  monk's,  brown  above  and  below,  but  some- 
Berkeley    what  paler  on  the  under  portions  where  a  tinge  of  cinna- 
mon appears.     The  wren  tit  is  a  fearless,  friendly  little 
creature,  hopping  about  in  the  tangle  of  blackberry  vines 
almost   within  reach   of  my  outstretched  hand,  but   so 
quiet  are  its  colors  and  so  dense  the  thickets  which  it 
inhabits,  that    the  careless  eye  might  well  overlook   it. 
The  little  low  chatter  which  it  utters  tells  us  of  its  pres- 
ence, and  if  we  wait  quietly  for  a  moment  it  may  even 
favor  us  with  a  song.      It  is  a  simple  strain,   a  high- 
pitched  pipe  —  tit-tit-tit-t  r  r  r  r  r  e  !  but  a  sweet  and 
characteristic  note  in  our  canons. 

As  autumn  moves  on  apace  the  winter  birds  assemble 
in  full  force.  The  golden-crowned  sparrows  come  flock- 
ing from  their  Alaskan  and  British  Columbian  homes, 
and  the  Gambel's  white-crowned  sparrows  from  their 
breeding  places  in  the  mountains, — the  one  adorned  with 
a  crown  of  dull  gold,  black  bordered,  and  the  other 
with  a  head  marked  with  broad  stripes  of  black  and 
white.  Both  have  backs  ot  streaked  brown  and  gray, 
and  breasts  of  buff  or  ash.  They  are  among  our  com- 
monest and  most  familiar  winter  residents,  dwelling  in 
our  gardens  as  well  as  in  the  thickets  among  the  hills, 
and  singing  even  during  the  milder  rains.  The  call  note 
of  both  species  is  a  lisping  tsip,  and  their  songs  have  the 
same  quality  of  tone — a  fine,  high,  long-drawn  whistle. 
I  have  written  down  the  most  usual  song  of  each  species 

38 


in    musical    form,   and    repeat   them    as   follows.     The 
golden-crowned  sparrow  sings  : 

8va 


The  song  of  GambePs  sparrow  is  a  trifle  more  elabo- 
rate, commencing  on  an  upward  scale,  instead  of  the 
downward,  as  in  the  former  case.  Loud  and  clear 
comes  from  the  rose  bushes  the  treble  whistle;: 


8va 


Gambel' s  sparrow  sings  not  only  all  day  long  but 
occasionally  at  night.  Often  upon  a  dark,  misty  night  in 
February  or  March  I  have  heard  a  sudden  burst  of  bird 
music,  and  recognized  the  very  clearly-marked  strains  of 
this  bird.  Coming  out  of  the  dark,  damp  night,  so  sud- 
den and  so  beautiful,  and  followed  by  so  perfect  a  calm, 
I  know  of  no  more  impressive  bird  music. 

When  the  rainy  months  of  winter  are  ended  and  the 
meadow  lark  is  sounding  his  loud,  rich  strains  from  the 
field,  and  the  linnet  is  fluttering  and  bubbling  over  with 
song,  a  host  of  merry  travelers  come  hurrying  to  our 
trees  and  gardens.  The  jolly  little  western  house  wren 


A 

Glimpse 

of  the 

Birds  of 

Berkeley 


39 


A          bobs  about  in  the  brush,  and,  as  the  wild  currant  puts 
Glimpse     forth  its  first  pink,  pendulous  blossoms,  the  beautiful  little 
of  the      rufous  humming-bird  comes  to  dine  upon  them.      I  know 
Birds  of   not  how  he  times  his  visit  so  closely,  but  certain  it  is 
Berkeley     that  the  pungent  woody  odor   of  these  blossoms  is  in- 
separably linked  in  my  mind  with  the  fine,  high,  insect- 
like  note  of  these  pugnacious  little  mites  in  coats  of  shim- 
mering fire,  that  come  to  us  from  Central  America  at  the 
very  first  intimation  of  spring. 

In  April  arrive  the  summer  birds,  full  of  the  joy  of 
the  mating  season.  The  Bullock's  oriole,  clad  in  black, 
orange,  and  gold,  sings  its  loud,  elated  strain  from  the 
tree  tops,  the  black-headed  grosbeak  carols  in  the  or- 
chard, the  lovely,  little,  blue-backed,  red-breasted  lazuli 
bunting  warbles  in  the  shrubbery,  and  finally,  the  stately, 
russet-backed  thrush,  quiet  and  dignified  in  his  coat  of 
brown,  with  white,  speckled  breast,  the  most  royal 
singer  of  our  groves,  sends  forth  upon  the  evening  air 
such  sweet  organ  tones  that  the  whole  night  is  full  of 
melody. 

I  would  that  our  birds  might  receive  some  measure 
of  the  appreciation  which  is  due  them,  and  that  we  might 
all  turn  at  times  from  the  busy  affairs  of  life  to  listen  to 
their  sweet  songs  and  winning  ways.  May  they  ever 
find  within  the  confines  of  Berkeley  a  haven  of  refuge 
from  that  merciless  persecution  which  is  steadily  reduc- 
ing their  numbers.  May  they  find  here  loving  friends 
ready  to  champion  their  cause,  and  may  they  ever  be 
considered  the  chief  ornament  of  our  hills  and  gardens ! 

CHARLES  A.  KEELER. 
40 


Walks  About 
Berkeley 


[HE  casual  observer  might  find  very 
little  of  promise  in  the  Berkeley 
hills  to  lure  him  on  to  their  ex- 
ploration. Their  brown  slopes, 
wrinkled  and  threadbare  as  the 
sleeve  of  a  hunter's  jacket,  seem 
to  reveal  to  the  very  first  glance 
all  that  they  hold  in  store.  No 
surprise,  surely,  can  be  waiting 
for  one  on  those  bare,  open  hill- 
sides. The  imagination  pictures 
no  secret  nooks,  no  wooded  ra- 
vines, no  crag  or  waterfall  behind 
the  straggling  screen  of  fern  and 
scrub  that  fringes  its  waterways. 
Yet,  after  all,  the  charm  of  sur- 
prise is  a  veritable  feature  of  the 
walks  about  Berkeley  —  surprise 
not  keen  and  startling,  to  be  sure, 
but  genuine  and  of  the  quality 
that  does  not  pall  by  frequent  repe- 
tition. Thus  it  is  that  the  num- 
ber and  variety  of  these  rambles 
is  a  source  of  unending  pleasure  to 
those  who  have  come  to  know 
them.  There  is  a  large  gradation 
too  in  their  extent  and  in  the  effort 
they  require: — the  quiet  saunter  up 
Strawberry  Canon  in  the  gloam- 
ing, the  long  afternoon  ramble 


Walks 

About 

Berkeley 


43 


Walks  over  the  hills  to  Orindo  Park,  the  all-day  -tramp  by  the 
About  Fish  Ranch  to  Redwood  Canon  and  Maraga  Peak,  or 
Berkeley  more  strenuous  still,  the  cross-country  trip  to  Diablo. 
You  may  follow  the  quiet  country  lanes  with  pastures, 
orchards,  and  grain-fields  dotted  about  here  and  there 
among  the  enveloping  wildness.  You  may  even  find 
abandoned  roadways  leading  nowhither,  constructed  at 
large  expense  by  some  one  who  surely  was  a  lover  of 
his  kind,  and  now  bequeathed  to  your  sole  use  and  be- 
hoof. You  may  thread  some  cool,  mossy  ravine  where 
the  stream  runs  deep  in  its  rocky  channel,  under  a  close 
roof  of  alders  and  redwoods.  Or  you  may  breast  the 
steep  slope,  each  step  opening  up  a  wider  and  wider 
prospect,  until  from  the  east  you  catch  the  exultant  flash 
of  Sierra  snows,  and  on  the  west,  far  beyond  Golden 
Gate  and  Farallones,  you  gaze  with  awe  on  the  immen- 
sity of  the  Pacific. 

I  do  not  mean  to  weary  the  reader  with  an  itinerary 
of  these  various  routes,  or  a  tabulation  of  their  peculiar 
charms.  Such  things  are  best  learned  when  they  come 
with  the  zest  of  discovery.  To  one  quaint  nook  only 
would  I  offer  to  conduct  my  reader,  and  with  the  more 
reason,  perhaps,  because  while  it  is  easy  enough  of  ac- 
cess, it  seems  to  be  very  little  known.  The  place  is 
called  Boswell's,  though  why  so  called  I  have  never  been 
able  to  guess.  The  name  suggests  human  habitation  at 
least,  if  not  also  vulgar  resort  and  entertainment;  but 
both  suggestions  are  wide  of  the  mark.  Our  visit  shall 
be  on  some  bright  morning  in  April.  We  take  the  train 
to  Berryman  station,  and  zig-zagging  thence  northwest- 


ward,  we  soon  are  clear  of  the  thin  fringe  of  dwelling- 
houses,  and  out  among  the  fields.  Our  course  so  far 
has  been  as  if  for  Peralta  Park;  but  instead  of  turning 
sharply  down  to  the  west  at  the  margin  of  a  little  creek, 
we  cross  the  bridge,  and  follow  the  country  lane  north- 
ward. When  the  lane  also  turns  abruptly  westward, 
some  half-mile  further  on,  we  abandon  it  altogether, 
continuing  our  former  direction  over  fields  and  fences, 
and  across  two  little  waterways.  Beyond  the  second 
rivulet  we  reach  a  broad  slope  thickly  strewn  with  rocks 
and  boulders,  and  dotted  about  with  low  trees  and 
shrubs.  This  is  Boswell's. 

The  air  all  along  has  been  full  of  the  sounds  and 
scents  of  spring:  —  the  gurgling  notes  of  the  meadow- 
lark,  the  rich  smell  of  newly  ploughed  fields,  the  warm 
breath  of  mustard  in  bloom.  But  this  untamable  rock- 
strewn  area,  like  the  Buddhist  monasteries  of  the  far 
east,  has  become  a  veritable  sanctuary  for  plants  and  liv- 
ing creatures  that  could  not  maintain  themselves  in  the 
open  in  their  unequal  struggle  with  that  fell  destroyer, 
man.  Here  the  wood-rat  has  piled  undisturbed  his  huge 
shelter  of  sticks.  The  warbler  and  the  thrush  are  sing- 
ing from  every  covert.  The  woodpecker  and  the  squir- 
rel shadow  you  from  behind  tree-trunk  or  rock  to  dis- 
cover your  intent  in  trespassing  thus  upon  their  private 
domain;  while  the  flycatcher  flashes  his  defiance  in  your 
very  face,  if  you  venture  too  near  his  mate  on  her  nest. 
Nor  is  it  otherwise  with  the  plants.  Delicate  species 
that  are  fast  disappearing  before  cultivation  —  the  blue 
nemophila,  the  shy  calochortus,  the  bright  pansy-violet — 


Walks 

About 

Berkeley 


45 


Walks      bloom  here  undisturbed    in   all    their  pathetic  beauty. 

About      "  If  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field,  which  to-day 

Berkeley    is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven,   shall  he  not 

much  more  clothe  you,  O  ye  of  little  faith?  " 

But  we  linger  here  too  long  upon  the  threshold.  The 
tract  is  a  considerable  one,  and  midway  there  is  thrust 
up  into  it  from  the  west  a  sombre  wedge  of  eucalyptus 
forest,  contrasting  strangely  with  the  rest  of  the  scene. 
For  here  we  seem  to  be  in  a  region  three  thousand  miles 
away, — in  a  veritable  bit  of  New  England  hill-pasture 
with  its  labyrinthine  paths,  its  ever-changing  short  vistas, 
its  endless  series  of  little  secluded  alcoves  walled  about 
with  shrubbery  and  carpeted  with  grass  and  flowers. 
The  rocks  too  are  of  striking  size  and  form,  and  culmi- 
nate near  the  lower  end  of  the  tract  in  a  bold,  fantastic 
crag,  in  itself  well  worth  the  effort  to  visit  it.  But  the 
most  unlooked-for  feature  of  the  place  is  its  air  of  remote- 
ness and  seclusion.  Here  it  lies,  spread  out  on  the  open 
hillside,  in  full  view  from  bay  and  from  town.  Yet  as 
we  thread  its  quiet  alleys,  or  lie  dreaming  in  the  sun- 
shine under  the  lee  of  its  rocks,  we  seem  to  have 
journeyed  leagues  from  the  work-a-day  world  we  left 
behind  us  but  an  hour  ago. 

It  is  good  to  be  here  !  And  good  it  is  also  to  return 
to  the  world.  The  joy  of  the  scene  and  the  season,  the 
clearer  brain  and  quickened  pulses  we  shall  bring  back 
with  us  as  we  take  up  again  the  effort  and  struggle. 
And  more  than  this  we  may  sometimes  bring  from  such 
a  sanctuary, —  some  heavenly  vision,  —  some  far-seen 
glimpse  of  a  transfigured  life  that  may  be  ours, — in  the 


strength  of  which  we  shall  go  many  days,  even  unto  the       Walks 
mount  of  God.  About 

Berkeley 
CORNELIUS  BEACH  BRADLEY. 


47 


The   Trees  of 
Berkeley 


fMONG  many  happy  remem- 
brances of  the  Californian  out-of- 
door  world  which  some  sixteen 
years  of  residence  on  that  delight- 
ful coast  have  left  with  me,  to 
stay  while  memory  lasts,  is  that 
of  the  Berkeley  landscape.  And 
one  cherishes  such  a  mental  pic- 
ture as  that  of  those  massive 
hills,  with  undulating  slopes  and 
rounded  summits,  all  verdure-clad 
and  flowery,  almost  from  the 
beginning  of  the  year  till  mid- 
summer ;  then  for  succeeding 
weeks  as  beautiful  with  a  kind  of 
harvest-field  yellow,  this  deepening 
into  brown  as  autumn  days  draw 
near  ;  and  always  varying  in  their 
beauty  with  every  change  in  the 
everchanging  sky  ;  beautiful  under 
cloud,  and  in  sunshine ;  beautiful 
in  the  light  of  early  morning,  in 
the  effulgence  of  noonday,  and  at 
the  setting  of  the  sun. 

And  this  fine  picture  of  the 
higher  hills  has  a  rich  foreground 
in  the  groves  and  thickets  which 
adorn  the  lower  slopes  and  thence 
extend  to  the  plain  below.  Al- 
ders throughout  the  northern  zone 


n* 

Trees  of 
Berkeley 


The       follow  the  water  courses  in  hilly  districts,  but  usually  as 
Trees  of   a  fringe  of  shrubs  ;  but  here  in  the  Berkeley  canons  they 
Berkeley    are  trees,  and  shapely  ones,  almost  replacing  the  admired 
beeches  of  our  Eastern  States  and  of  Europe  ;  the  beech 
being  absent  from  California.     And  above  the  alders,  on 
drier  ground  flourishes  the  California  Laurel ;  this,  in  its 
compact  habit,  perennial  verdure,  keen  fragrance  of  foli- 
age, and  in  the  beauty  of  its  wood,  having  no  compeer 
among  its  own  kindred  on  our  continent. 

And  the  more  humble  woody  and  bushy  growths 
associated  along  the  stream-banks  with  the  trees  afore- 
named, in  their  own  way  surpass  them  in  grace  and 
beauty.  Such  are  the  pink-flowered  wild  currants ;  and 
even  the  wild  gooseberries  native  to  these  hills ;  and 
these  last,  though  they  yield  but  prickly  and  insipid 
fruits,  more  than  compensate  for  this  at  flowering  time 
by  the  strongly  contrasted  clear  white  and  deep  red  or 
dark  purple  of  their  large  almost  fuchsia-like  flowers ; 
these  being  put  forth  in  profusion  often  before  the  mild 
winter  season  of  Berkeley  is  past.  A  few  weeks  later  and 
the  ceanothus  bushes,  masses  of  bloom  intensely  blue,  are 
seen  intermixed  with  the  soft  plume-like  white  panicles 
of  the  wild  spiraea ;  the  two  together,  or  either  one  alone, 
charming  every  lover  of  the  flowery  out-of-door  world. 
The  groves  which  formerly  covered  all  the  compara- 
tively level  country  that  lies  along  the  bases  of  the  hills, 
and  of  which  considerable  remnants  are  still  to  be  seen, 
especially  on  the  University  grounds,  consisted  mainly 
of  the  native  oak,  with  more  or  less  of  the  Californian 
Buckeye,  or  Horsechestnut  intermixed.  Within  the  last 


forty  years  many  exotic  trees  have  been  planted,  either  The 
among  the  oaks,  or  in  masses  apart  from  them,  where  Trees  of 
they  now  form  separate  groves.  But  it  is  interesting  to  Berkeley 
note  in  what  perfect  keeping  with  the  landscape  of 
rounded  hills  above  them  the  native  oaks  are,  as  to  form 
and  outline.  For  all  of  them,  however  large,  present  a 
comparatively  low,  broad,  and  evenly  rounded  figure, 
exceedingly  unlike  that  of  the  oaks  of  other  countries, 
and  exactly  harmonizing  with  the  general  outlines  of  the 
Californian  coast  hills  whose  bases  they  adorn.  Enter- 
ing under  one  of  these  oaks,  the  trunk  is  seen  to  be 
parted  from  near  the  ground  into  ten  or  more,  each 
separate  trunk  extending  upwards  half  horizontally,  in 
such  wise  that  the  horizontal  extent  of  the  tree  as  a 
whole  quite  exceeds  its  height ;  and  occasionally  one  or 
more  of  the  arms  of  the  trunk  almost  recline  along  the 
ground  ;  thus  affording  not  only  a  deep  shade,  but  a 
resting  place  for  the  out-of-door  saunterer  who  enters 
this  leafy  retreat.  And,  our  oaks  retain  their  verdure 
throughout  the  year.  Without  being  evergreen  in  the 
strictest  sense,  yet,  the  leaves  of  one  season  remain  fresh 
and  in  place  all  through  autumn  and  winter,  and  are  only 
ready  to  fall  when  the  foliage  for  the  new  year  is  almost 
full-grown  in  April. 

The  Buckeye  is  also,  in  a  smaller  way,  broad,  rather 
than  tall,  and  offers  almost  as  deep  and  banyan-like  a 
bower  of  shadiness  in  summer  as  the  oak  ;  and  in  flower, 
with  its  long  spindle-like  garlands  of  pale  pinkish  bloom, 
is  one  of  the  finest  ornamental  trees  of  which  any  land 
can  boast. 


S3 


The  Somewhat  later  in  the  summer  than  the  flowering  of 

Trees  of  the  Buckeye,  there  appear  the  rather  dull-white  clusters 
Berkeley  of  the  bloom  of  the  Christmas  Berry,  or  Californian 
Holly ;  a  small  tree,  and  evergreen  ;  not  at  all  conspicu- 
ous in  flower,  yet,  in  November  and  December  days, 
when  its  ample  bunches  of  berries  have  ripened  to  rich 
crimson,  easily  rivalling  the  real  Holly  in  its  beauty. 

The  exotic  trees  which  have  found  the  Californian  soil 
and  climate  congenial,  and  which  have  come  to  form  a 
notable  element  in  the  Berkeley  landscape,  are  so  numer- 
ous in  species  that  one  must  not  attempt  to  name  half  of 
them,  where  space  is  limited ;  but  there  are  some  which 
should  not  here  be  left  without  brief  mention.  The 
large  Eucalypti,  for  example,  when  growing  singly  or  in 
small  groups  among  the  native  oaks,  and  towering  far 
above  them,  have  not  only  a  certain  combination  of 
grace  and  majesty  of  their  own,  but  give  a  variety  to  the 
landscape  which  is  most  pleasing. 

And  again ;  the  Cassias,  so  surpassingly  beautiful 
when,  at  the  end  of  winter,  they  deck  themselves  com- 
pletely in  soft  sprays  of  feathery  yellow  bloom — these  in 
all  their  varieties,  unite  with  lilac  and  laburnum,  almond- 
tree  and  apple-tree,  and  a  host  of  other  flower-bearing 
tree-growths,  to  make  the  Berkeley  parks  and  ways  in 
spring  fair  and  fragrant  as  the  paths  of  Paradise. 

EDWARD  L.  GREENE. 


54 


On   Berkeley 
Hills 


HE  sun  lies  warm  on  Berkeley  hills  :  On 

The  long,  fair  slopes  bend  softly  down      Berkeley 
To  fold  in  loving  arms  the  town ;  Hills 

The  sun-kissed  uplands  rise  and  swell, 
And  blue-eyed-grass  and  pimpernel 
Dot  the  young  meadow's  velvet  sheen. 


The  air  with  spring-time  music  thrills, 
Sweet  songs  of  birds  in  halls  of  green 
On  Berkeley  hills. 

The  sun  lies  warm  on  Berkeley  hills  : 
The  poppies  gleaming  orange-red 
Down  the  broad  fields  their  mantles  spread ; 
Beyond  the  marshes  glints  the  Bay, 
Its  islands  lying  brown  and  bare 
Leviathan-like  sunning  there. 
Brave  ships  are  sailing  through  the  gate, 
The  wind  their  spreading  canvas  fills — 
It  whispered  through  the  trees,  but  late, 
On  Berkeley  hills. 

The  sun  lies  warm  on  Berkeley  hills : 
Across  the  Bay,  from  misty  view 
The  City  rises  toward  the  blue ; 
With  feet  of  clay,  with  burdened  wings, 
Yet  pressing  up  to  better  things 
From  level  height  to  level  height ! 
Here  where  the  hush  all  clamor  stills 
Her  beauty  shows,  a  goodly  sight, 
From  Berkeley  hills. 


57 


On        The  sun  lies  warm  on  Berkeley  hills : 
Berkeley     The  wide  gate  beckons  out  to  sea, 
Hills       Swift  birds  above,  poised  high  and  free 
Invite  the  soul  to  golden  flight 
To  where  there  open  on  the  sight 
Large  visions  of  that  coming  day 
When  faith  that  sees,  when  hope  that  wills 
Shall  bring  man's  best  to  dwell  alway 
On  Berkeley  hills. 

ADELINE  KNAPP. 


The  Love  of 
Life 


[ANY  years  ago,  just  as  the  fairy  books 
have  it,  the  entire  Berkeley  land  from 
the  summit  of  the  hills,  flecked  with 
cloud-shadows,  to  the  sands  of  the  bay 
shore,  lying  naked  in  the  sun,  belonged 
to  the  wild  flowers  and  their  friends, 
the  trees  and  shrubs.  The  right  of  the  flowers,  children 
of  the  Sun,  to  possess  the  canons,  slopes  and  fields,  is  of 
exceedingly  ancient  origin :  nurtured  by  Mother  Earth, 
heedful  of  the  call  of  the  Rain  God,  responding  to  their 
guardian,  the  Sun,  they  made  annual  proclamation  of 
their  title.  Each  year  the  wealthy  Lupine  family  came 
forth  to  give  the  sign ;  lowly  Nemophilas  chose  their 
places ;  Brodiaeas,  purple-stalked,  joined  the  company, 
while  round  about,  leaving  nowhere  a  vacant  place,  in- 
numerable throngs  of  parti-colored  Gilias  followed  in  the 
crimson  wake  of  Calandrinia.  Hundreds  of  zealous  re- 
tainers joined  this  foregathering  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
fields.  On  the  remoter  landscape,  the  Baerias  filmed  the 
ground  with  gold,  while  high  on  some  half-inaccessible 
canon  wall,  Godetias  and  Clarkias,  crimson-mouthed  and 
scarlet-lipped,  stood  as  beautiful  as  victory. 

After  the  caballero,  came  our  own  house-building  and 
pasture-inclosing  people  who  left  scarcely  a  "  common  " 
where  the  delicate  "  first  inhabitants  "  might  live  as  they 
had  lived  in  the  old  days,  but  appropriated  nearly  every 
bit  of  meadow  and  hill-slope  to  themselves. 

And  still  our  people,  not  content  with  so  much,  trooped 
out  of  their  houses  at  that  season  when  the  apple-blossom 
comes  again  on  the  tree,  and  made  unceasing  war  on  the 


The 

Love  of 
Life 


61 


The       flower  people,  especially  on  those  most  graceful  or  engag- 
Love  of    ing,  so  that  a  blossom  raised  its  head  in  overflow  of  hap- 

Life  piness  only  to  meet  death.  Those  people  who,  perhaps 
being  lazy,  came  not  early  enough,  returned  into  the 
houses  empty-handed,  or  pulled  green  branches  from  the 
trees  and  shrubs  (because  they  are  the  friends  of  the 
flowers),  stripping  down  the  bark  and  leaving  long  gaping 
bleeding  wounds. 

Now  some  of  the  wild  flowers  retreated  into  the  hills, 
some  found  half-secure  hiding  places  in  the  edges  of 
thickets,  and  some  were  never  seen  again.  But  a  few 
others,  hardy  adventurers,  returned  each  year  with  the 
passing  of  the  winter  rains.  Do  you  not  wonder  that 
this  is  so  ?  Why  is  it  ?  It  is  because  of  the  overmaster- 
ing love  of  life,  which  is  their  inheritance,  and  the  end- 
less pains  that  the  plant  takes  to  secure  its  own  safety  and 
the  safety  and  highest  welfare  of  its  children.  Blue  Dicks 
people  the  south  canon-sides,  a  glad  company,  because 
Blue  Dick  keeps  most  of  his  precious  body  deep  in  the 
ground  and  there  providently  stores  food  against  blossom- 
ing and  seed-making  time.  A  handsome  fellow  is  Blue 
Dick  in  the  month  of  March,  with  his  light-blue  flowers 
hugging  close  together  and  their  royal  purple  coats  thrown 
half  back,  the  whole  cluster  of  them  raised  on  a  leafless 
stalk.  As  for  the  leaves,  they  are  very  long,  and  you 
will  find  them  close  to  the  ground. 

The  Yellow  Violet  is  just  such  another  contriving  plant. 
The  enemies  of  him  pull  him  up  by  the  roots,  or  think 
they  do,  not  knowing,  luckily,  that  the  coral-like  strands 
which  are  torn  from  the  ground  are  not  roots  after  all  but 

62 


only  underground  stems.     The  real  roots  lie  very  deeply         The 
buried  and,  so,  the  Yellow  Violet  goes  bravely  on  flower-     Love  of 
ing  year  after  year,   striving   to  bear  seedpods  that  its        Life 
family  may  increase  in  the  land  of  open  woods. 

In  April,  King's  Cups  sprinkle  the  fields,  the  yellow 
flowers  borne  in  such  nest-like  rosettes  of  leaves  that  some 
of  us  call  them  Golden  Eggs !  The  spreading  petals 
terminate  a  long  thread-like  tube  that  runs  down  almost 
into  the  ground  where  the  seed-bearing  part  is  hidden  out 
of  harm's  way.  What  eqxuisite  care  is  this  !  What 
bolder  expression  of  the  desire  to  live ! 

In  February  and  April,  Buttercups  color  the  pastured 
hills  for  leagues  and  leagues,  brilliant  in  the  sun,  appearing 
on  the  distant  slopes  as  if  painted  into  the  very  texture  of 
the  earth  itself.  Are  you  not  ready  to  ask  why  grazing 
animals  do  not  like  Buttercup  leaves  and  buds  ?  The 
Buttercup  knows  why  !  Of  this  we  may  be  sure :  if  ever 
grazing  animals  once  found  the  Buttercup  palatable,  then 
there  would  never  be  a  second  generation  of  Buttercups. 

Some  time  we  shall  see  more  of  the  wonderful  things 
in  Nature  and  so  shall  the  wonder  grow  that  we  shall 
forget  our  primitive  instincts  and  delight  no  more  in  the 
hunter's  joy,  the  kill  for  the  sake  of  the  kill.  Some  time 
there  will  be  here  in  Berkeley  a  wild-flower  protection 
society,  just  as  in  older  states,  and  those  who  have  wide 
grounds  will  give  the  wild  flowers  a  corner — all  their 
own.  Some  time,  gentle  reader,  the  call  will  come  down 
from  the  mountain  top  and  you  shall  come  up  from  the 
valley  and  go  on  a  little  journey  over  the  hills  on  a  rainy 
April  day,  the  high  grass  wet,  the  west  wind  blowing, 


The  and  with  new  perceptions  the  true  story  of  the  wild 
Love  of  flowers  will  be  told  you  in  every  gesture  of  leaf  and 

Life  curve  of  bud.  Doubtless  the  flowers  are  happiest  when 
the  sun  shines ;  when  their  gay  colors  signal  the  passing 
bee  or  butterfly,  carriers  of  pollen,  the  transfer  of  which, 
as  you  know,  makes  better  seeds  and  seedlings  and  the 
seedlings  better  and  larger  plants.  But  in  stormy  weather, 
when  the  rain  drops  are  falling  and  you  can  hear  the 
sound  of  water  running  in  the  gulches,  some  of  the  most 
curious  and  interesting  features  of  their  lives  are  disclosed 
to  even  the  least  sympathetic  observer :  behold  the  eager 
attitude  of  their  leaves  stretched  out  for  light,  the  way  in 
which  they  keep  warm,  the  ingenious  manner  in  which 
protection  is  secured  against  rain.  These  are  some  of 
many  things  that  will  excite  your  senses,  and  then  your 
responsive  nature  will  find  on  every  hand  the  choice  in- 
habitants of  the  hills  warm  with  emotions,  on  every  side 
you  will  see  the  effort  for  self-preservation,  everywhere 
the  expression  of  the  overmastering  desire — the  love  of 
fife. 

WILLIS  L.  JEPSON. 


A  Berkeley  Bird  and 
IPild-Flower   Calendar 


H  !  well  I  mind  the  calendar, 

Faithful  through  a  thousand  years, 

Of  the  painted  race  of  flowers, 

Exact  to  days,   exact  to  hours, 

Counted  on  the  spacious  dial 

Yon  broidered  zodiac  girds. 
I  know  the  trusty  almanac 
Of  the  punctual  coming-back, 
On  their  due  days,  of  the  birds. 

RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 


Berkeley 
Bird  and 
Wild- 
Flower 
Calendar 


[DO  not  want  change  :  I  want  the  same  old  and 
loved  things,  the  same  wild-flowers,  the  same 
trees  and  soft  ash-green;  the  blackbirds,  the 
coloured  yellowhammer  sing,  sing,  singing  so  long 
as  there  is  light  to  cast  a  shadow  on  the  dial, 
for  such  is  the  measure  of  his  song,  and  I  want 
them  in  the  same  place — let  me  watch  the  same 
succession  year  by  year. 

Proem  :   The  Pageant  of  Summer. 


RICHARD  JEFFERIES. 


Townsend's  Solitaire.     Very  rare. 
Birds       Lutescent  Warbler.      Common  resident. 

Pine  Finch.      Occasional  in  flocks  during  winter. 
California  Woodpecker.      Common  at  times  in  winter. 
Western   Golden-crowned    Kinglet.        Fairly    common 

winter  resident. 
Ruby-crowned  Kinglet.     Abundant    during   the  winter 

months. 

Western  Robin.     Common  at  times  in  flocks  in  winter. 
Western  Winter  Wren.      Rare  winter  visitant. 
Dwarf  Hermit    Thrush.      Common,    but    shy    winter 

resident. 
Western  Blue-bird.     Common  at  times  in  flocks. 


It's  little  I  can  tell 

About  the  birds  in  books  j 

And  yet  I  know  them  well, 

By  their  music  and  their  looks. 

When  Spring  comes  down  the  lane, 

Her  airy  lovers  throng 

To  welcome  her  with  song, 

And  follow  in  her  train : 

Each  minstrel  weaves  his  part 

In  that  wild-flowery  strain, 

And  I  know  them  all  again 

By  their  echo  in  my  heart. 

HENRY  VAN  DYKE. 


68 


Pussy  Willows.     Along  creek  banks. 
Blue  Hound's  Tongue.     Thickets  of  the  caiions. 
Chickweed.      In  the  shade  of  walls  and  fences. 
Shepherd's  Purse.      Common  in  field  and  by  roadside. 
Flowering  Currant.     In  canons  and  along  streams. 


Thou  sendest  forth  Thy  Spirit ;  they  are  created  ;  and  Thou  renew- 
est  the  face  of  the  earth. 

DAVID  THE  PSALMIST. 


Pleased  Nature's  heart  is  always  young, 
Her  golden  harp  is  ever  strung; 
Singing  and  playing,  day  to  day, 
She  passes  happy  on  her  way. 

JOHN  VANCE  CHENEY. 


Gambel's  White-crowned  Sparrow.      Very  abundant  in 

Birds  flocks. 

Golden-crowned  Sparrow.     Abundant  in  flocks. 
Samuel's  Song  Sparrow.      Very  common  resident. 
Oregon  Junco.      Common  in  flocks  during  winter. 
Townsend's  Sparrow.      Common,  but  solitary. 
Oregon  Towhee.      Common  resident  of  the  canons. 
California    Brown    Towhee.       Very    abundant    every- 
where. 

American  Goldfinch.      Locally  distributed  in  flocks. 
Evening  Grosbeak.      Very  rare. 
Cedar  Bird.     Occasional  in  flocks. 


The  endless,  sweet  reiterations  of  birds  mean  something  wiser  than 
we  dream  of  in  our  lower  life  here. 

HARRIET  BEECHER  STOWE. 


Do  you  ne'er  think  what  wondrous  beings  these  ? 
Whose  household  words  are  songs  in  many  keys, 
Sweeter  than  instrument  of  man  e'er  caught  ! 
Whose  habitations  in  the  tree-tops  even 
Are  half-way  houses  on  the  road  to  heaven  ! 

HENRY  W.  LONGFELLOW. 


70 


How  fitting  to  have  every  day  in  a  vase  of  water  on  your  table,     TCbl*U<lf  V 
the  wild-flowers  of  the  season  which  are  just  blossoming. 

HENRY  D.  THOREAU. 


Trillium.     In  heavily-shaded  canons. 

Wild  Cucumber.      Ivy-like;  over  stumps  and  shrubs. 

Indian  Paint-Brush.      Rocky  points  of  the  hills. 

Wood  Sorrel.      In  sunny,  sheltered  corners. 

Leather  Wood.     In  Strawberry  Canon. 

Indian  Lettuce.     Shade  of  oaks  and  laurels. 

Dandelion.     A  bright  apparition  of  field  and  meadow. 


Dear  common  flower,   that  grow'st  beside  the  way, 
My  childhood's  earliest  thoughts  are  linked  with   thee. 

To  the  Dandelion. 

JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 


Simple  and  fresh  and  fair  from  winter's  close  emerging, 

Forth  from  its  sunny  nook  of  shelter' d  grass — innocent,  golden,  calm 

t  as  the  dawn, 
The  spring's  first  dandelion  shows  its  trustful  face. 

WALT  WHITMAN. 


Burrowing  Owl.     Found  in  the  hills.     Becoming  scarce. 
Birds       Western  Screech  Owl.      Resident.      Common. 

Barn  Owl.     Formerly  common  about  town.     Now  rare. 

Western  Great  Horned  Owl.     Occasional  in  the  woods. 

Barn  Swallow.      Common. 

Cliff  Swallow.     Abundant. 

California  Partridge   (Valley  Quail).      Fairly  abundant. 

Pileolated  Warbler.     Solitary  as  a  rule. 

Brewer's  Blackbird.     Abundant  in  flocks. 


There  is  something  almost  pathetic  in  the  fact  that  the  birds  remain 
for  ever  the  same.  You  grow  old,  your  friends  die,  events  sweep  on 
and  all  things  are  changed.  Yet  there  in  your  garden  or  orchard  are 
the  birds  of  your  boyhood,  the  same  notes,  the  same  calls. 

The  swallows,  that  built  so  far  out  of  your  reach  beneath  the  eaves 
of  your  father's  barn,  the  same  ones  now  chatter  beneath  the  eaves 
of  your  barn.  The  warblers  and  shy  wood-birds  you  pursued  with  such 
glee  ever  so  many  moons  ago,  no  marks  of  change  cling  to  them ;  the 
whistle  of  the  quail,  the  strong  piercing  note  of  the  meadow-lark — how 
these  sounds  ignore  the  years,  and  strike  on  the  ear  with  the  melody  of 
that  spring-time  when  the  world  was  young. 

A  Bird  Medley. 

JOHN  BURROUGHS. 


Then,  all  at  once,  the  land  laughed  into  bloom. 

ALFRED  AUSTIN. 


Wild  Cyclamen  or  Shooting-Stars.  Common  on  hill- 
sides. 

Brodiaea.     Very  abundant  on  sunny  hillslopes. 

California  Lilac.     In  bosky  thickets. 

Fuchsia-flowered  Gooseberry.     Steep  canon-sides. 

Ferns.      Giving  beauty  and    grace  to  canons  and  hills. 

Sun  Cups  or  Golden  Eggs.      On  low  slopes. 

Bush  Lupine.     Abundant  on  canon-sides. 

Calendrinia.     Low  hillsides. 

Filaree.  Common  carpet  of  roadside,  pasture,  orchard 
and  vacant  lot. 

Eschscholtzia  or  California  Poppy.  The  golden  glory 
of  field  and  wayside. 


Thy  satin  vesture  richer  is  than  looms 
Of  Orient  weave  for  raiment  of  her  kings. 

The  Escbscbo/teia. 


INA  COOLBRITH. 


73 


For,  lo,  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is  over  and  gone ;  the  flowers 
appear  on  the  earth  ;  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come. 

SONG  OF  SOLOMON. 


Western  House  Wren.     Very  common. 

Plain-crested  Titmouse.  Very  common  among  the  live- 
oaks. 

California  Bush  Tit  (Tomtit).  Abundant.  An  early 
nester. 

California  Purple  Finch.      Rather  rare. 

Black  Pewee  (Black-headed  Flycatcher).  Very  com- 
mon. 

Bullock's  Oriole.      Tolerably  common. 

Red-winged  Blackbird.      Locally  distributed. 

Green-backed  Goldfinch  (Wild  Canary).  With  us  all 
the  year  round. 

Rufous  Hummer.  A  radiant  visitor  from  Central  Amer- 
ica. 


And  here  the  wild  birds  sing, 
And  there  the  wild  flowers  blow  j 
My  heart — 'tis  on  the  wing, 
I  know  not  where  'twill  go. 

JOHN  VANCE  CHENEY. 


74 


Yellow  Pansy.     Among  the  scattered  oaks  on  Boswell's 

ranche,  and  at  Point  Isabel. 
Blue-eyed    Grass  or    Nigger    Babies.       Thick   in  moist 

pastures. 
Nemophila.     In  Strawberry  Canon,  also  on  trail  to  Wild 

Cat  Canon  from  North  Berkeley. 

Wild  Oats.     An  home  from  hilltop  to  the  bay  shore. 
Pepper  Grass.      Moist  waysides. 
Yellow  Mustard.     Luxuriant  on  plain  and  meadow. 
Buttercups.       Abundant  everywhere. 


The  flowering  of  the  buttercups  is  always  a  great,  and  I  may  truly 
say,  a  religious  event  in  any  year. 

The  Buttercup. 

JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

Oh,  for  the  time 

Of  the  mustard's  prime  j 

For  the  shifting  haze 

Of  its  yellow  maze ; 
For  the  airy  toss 
Of  its  yellow  gloss ; 

For  the  amber  lights 

Along  the  heights 
Of  the  verdurous  April  ways. 

ANNA  CATHERINE  MARKHAM. 


75 


Western  Flycatcher.      Common,  nesting  in  mossy  banks. 
Warbling  Vireo.      Common  summer  resident. 
Summer  Warbler.      Less  common  of  late. 
Rufous  crowned  Sparrow.      Fairly  common  in  the  hills. 
Western  Savannah  Sparrow.      In  open  fields. 
Lazuli  Bunting.      Common  summer  resident. 
Western  Lark  Finch.      Common  summer  resident. 
Russet-backed  Thrush.      Abundant.     A  peerless  song- 
ster. 


All  the  notes  of  the  forest-throng, 
Flute,  reed  and  string  are  in  his  song; 
Never  a  fear  knows  he,  nor  wrong, 
Nor  a  doubt  of  anything. 

The   TbrusA. 

EDWARD  ROWLAND  SILL. 


That's  the  wise  thrush;   he  sings  each  song  twice  over 
Lest  you  should  think  he  never  could  recapture 
The  first,  fine,  careless  rapture. 

ROBERT  BROWNING. 


The  voice  of  one  who  goes  before  to  make 
The  paths  of  June  more  beautiful,  is  thine, 
Sweet  May. 


HELEN  HUNT  JACKSON. 


Cream  Cups.  Moist  hillside  fields  above  North  Berke- 
ley towards  Grizzly  Peak  and  Wild  Cat  Canon. 

Fritillaria.     Rich  mould  of  wooded  canons. 

Columbine.  In  secluded  glens,  especially  in  Sir  Dag- 
onet's  Glen  back  of  Institute,  and  in  Woolsey 
Canon. 

Tidy  Tips,  or  Yellow  Daisies.  Brightening  meadow 
and  plain. 

Calochortus.     At  Boswell's,  undisturbed  by  cultivation. 


Fancy  the  waving,  pulsing  melody  of  the  vast  flower  congregations 
flowing  from  myriad  voices  of  tuned  petal  and  pistil  and  heaps  of  sculpt- 
ured pollen. 

JOHN  MUIR. 


77 


3IUHC       Road  Runner.      Rather  rare  among  the  hills. 
Birds       Rock  Wren.      Not  uncommon  in  the  hills. 

Ashy-throated  Kingbird.      Rather  rare. 

Lawrence's  Goldfinch.      Rare. 

Black-headed  Grosbeak.      Common  summer  resident. 

Samuel's  Song  Sparrow.     Very  common  resident. 

Wren  Tit.     A  faithful  singer. 

Anna's    Hummer    (Humming    Bird).      Very    common 
resident. 

Allen's  Hummer.     Not  uncommon  in  summer. 


The  least  of  birds,  a  jeweled  sprite, 
With  burnished  throat  and  needle  bill, 
Wags  his  head  in  the  golden  light, 
Till  it  flashes,  and  dulls,  and  flashes  bright, 
Cheeping  his  microscopic  song. 

Field  Notes. 

EDWARD  ROWLAND  SILL. 


Heart  of  the  Summer  is  Heart  of  the  Year.  3UIK 

MRS.   A.   D.  T.   WHITNEY. 


Clarkia.     Sunny  hillsides.      Road  to  Fish  Ranche. 
Blue  Gilia.      Makes  patches  of  color  in  the  fields. 
Sunflower.      On  open  plains  and  hillsides. 
Evening  Primrose.      Exposed  places  and  by  roadside. 
Indian  Pink.     Illumines  roadsides  and  borders  of  thickets. 
Collinsia.      In  shade  of  oaks  and  other  trees. 
Owl's  Clover.     West  Berkeley  fields. 
Wild  Rose.     Widely  distributed.     Blossoms  indefatiga- 
bly  early  and  late. 


As  slight  a  thing  as  a  rose  may  be 

A  stepping  stone 
Whereby  some  soul  may  step  from  earth 

To  love's  high  throne. 

A  Rose. 

CLARENCE  URMY. 


So  sweet,  so  sweet  the  roses  in  their  blowing, 
So  sweet  the  lilies  are,  so  fair  to  see  : 
So  blithe  and  gay  the  humming  bird  a-going 
From  flower  to  flower,  a-hunting  with  the  bee. 

NORAH  PERRY. 

79 


3ttly        Western  Wood  Pewee.     Common  in  the  woods. 
Bfr4$       Russet-backed  Thrush.      Nesting. 

Bullock's  Oriole.     In  song. 

Black-headed  Grosbeak.      Singing. 

Green-backed  Goldfinch.     Abundant. 

Barn  Swallow.      Nesting  under  the  eaves  of  barns. 

Cliff  Swallow.     Nesting. 

House  Finch   (Linnet).     Very  abundant  resident. 


The  Power  that  built  the  starry  dome  on  high, 
And  poised  th'  inverted  rafters  of  the  sky, 
Teaches  the  linnet  with  unconscious  breast 
To  round  the  inverted  heaven  of  her  nest. 


ANONYMOUS. 


The  shadow  of  a  bird 

On  the  shadow  of  a  bough, 

Sweet  and  clear  his  song  is  heard; 

"Seek  me  now,  I  seek  thee  now." 

The  bird  swings  out  of  reach  in  the  swaying  tree, 

But  his  shadow  on  the  garden  walk  below  belongs  to  me. 

EDWARD  ROWLAND  SILL. 


80 


Through  the  open  door 
A  drowsy  smell  of  flowers  —  gray  heliotrope, 
And  sweet  white  clover,   and  shy  mignonette  — 
Comes  faintly  in,  and  silent  chorus  lends 
To  the  pervading  symphony  of  peace. 


JOHN  G.  WHITTIER. 


There  are  crowds  who  trample  a  flower  into  the  dust,  without  once 
thinking  that  they  have  one  of  the  sweetest  thoughts  of  God  under 
their  feet. 

J.   G.  HOLLAND. 


Flowers  themselves,  whate'er  their  hue, 
With  all  their  fragrance,  all  their  glistening, 
Call  to  the  heart  for  inward  listening. 

WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH. 


Tarweed.  Exasperatingly  abundant  in  the  eyes  of  cross- 
country walkers. 

Yerba  Buena.      Fringing  Strawberry  Creek. 

Common  Monkey  Flower.  Low  moist  places  in  ditches 
and  streambeds. 

Godetia.      Hillsides,  especially  toward  Claremont. 

Wild  Honeysuckle.  Climbing  into  trees  along  Straw- 
berry Creek. 


81 


Western  Chipping  Sparrow.       Still  occasionally  trilling 

its  spring  song. 

Western  Lark  Finch.      In  flocks  among  the  fields. 
Lazuli  Bunting.     A  beautiful  fleck  of  blue  in  the  thickets. 
Plain  crested  Titmouse.     The  Quaker  of  the  oak  groves. 
California  Jay.     Abundant  and  noisy. 
California  Bush  Tit.      Busy  little  bands  among  the  live 

oaks. 
Red-shafted    Flicker.     Always  in  evidence  among   the 

hills. 
Western  Screech  Owl.     Its  sweet  call  heard  at  night. 


James  Russell  Lowell,  whose  wont  it  is  to  see  and  hear  the  thing 
commonly  overlooked,  regards  the  cry  of  this  owl,  (The  Screech 
Owl, )  as  one  of  the  sweetest  sounds  in  Nature. 

Wood  Notes  Wild. 

SIMON  PEASE  CHENEY. 


The  last  hour  of  light  touches  the  birds  as  it  touches  us.  When 
they  sing  in  the  morning,  it  is  with  the  happiness  of  the  earth  5  but 
as  the  shadows  fall  strangely  about  them,  and  the  helplessness  of  the 
night  comes  on,  their  voices  seem  to  be  lifted  up  like  the  loftiest  poetry 
of  the  human  spirit,  with  sympathy  for  realities  and  mysteries  past  all 
understanding. 

A  Kentucky   Cardinal. 

JAMES  LANE  ALLEN. 

82 


Zauschneria.      Hillsides,  mostly  in  rocky  places. 
Clematis.      Climbing  over  shrubs  on  the  canon- walls. 
Twin-Berry.     Tenant  of  stream-banks  and  bottoms. 
Pimpernel  or  Poor  Man's  Weather-glass.      Waste  places. 
Ripening  Grasses,  whispering  the  brown  earth's  secrets. 
Succory.      On  low  fields  stretching  to  the  bay. 


Consider  what  we  owe  to  the  meadow-grasses  ;  with  their  feathery, 
or  downy  seed-vessels,  mingling  quaint  brown  punctuation  with  the 
bloom  of  the  nearer  fields ;  and  casting  a  gossamered  grayness  and  soft- 
ness of  plumy  mist  along  their  surfaces  far  away. 

JOHN  RUSKIN. 


In  the  fields  the  tall-stemmed  blue  succory  lights  one  or  two  blos- 
soms in  its  chandelier ;  it  is  thrifty,  and  means  to  have  its  lamps  last, 
not  burn  out  all  at  once. 

The  Seasons. 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 


Red-breasted  Nuthatch.     An  autumn  and  winter  visitor. 
Gairdners's    Woodpecker.      Occasionally   found    during 

autumn  and  winter. 

House  Finch.      Old  and  young  in  flocks. 
Blue-fronted  Jay.      Occasional  visitor. 
Pileolated  Warbler.     A  beautiful  visitant  during  autumn 

and  winter. 

Lutescent  Warbler.     Singing  in  the  canons. 
Green-backed  Goldfinch.     In  flocks  among  the  tarweed. 
Meadow  Lark.      Revives  its  sweet  spring  song. 


Oh,  for  the  tryst 

Of  the  lark  in  the  mist ; 

For  the  fleeting  flash 

Of  his  breast's  gold  plash  j 
For  the  thin  fused  gold 
Of  his  song  retold, 

Like  a  flute's  uplift 

Through  the  silent  rift 
Of  an  orchestra's  dying  clash. 

ANNA  CATHERINE  MARKHAM. 


Song  of  the  Meadow  Lark. 

^:  /TV 


From  Wood  Notes  Wild. 

(By  permission  of  Lee  and  Shepard.) 


Asters  and  Golden  Rod.      Corners  of  fields,  dry  stream 

banks  and  hillsides. 
Mallows.     Vacant  lots. 

Thimble  Berry.      Everywhere  in  the  canons. 
Yellow  Sweet  Clover.      Streets  and  waste  places. 
Wild  Radish.      Everywhere  in  waste  places. 
Belated  Wild  Roses  and  Poppies. 


O  sweet  wild  rose  !     O  strong  south  wind  ! 
The  sunny  roadside  asks  no  reasons 
Why  we  such  secret  summer  find, 
Forgetting  calendars  and  seasons. 

A  Wild  Rose  in  September. 


HELEN  HUNT. 


I  know  the  lands  are  lit 
With  all  the  autumn  blaze  of  Golden  Rod  j 
And  everywhere  the  Purple  Asters  nod 
And  bend  and  wave  and  flit. 


HELEN  HUNT  JACKSON. 


OctObCf     Arctic  Blue-bird.      Occasional   in   flocks  during  autumn 

and  winter. 
Western  Golden-crowned  Kinglet.     A  lovely  waif  from 

the  north-land. 
Ruby-crowned  Kinglet. 
Townsend's  Sparrow. 
Dwarf  Hermit  Thrush. 

Oregon  Junco.     A  sprightly  little  winter  visitor. 
Tule  Wren.      Common  in  marshes  on  the  bay  shore. 
Maryland  Yellowthroat.      Common  in  marshes. 
Streaked  horned  Lark.     In  open  fields  near  the  bay. 


These  are  the  days  when  birds  come  back, 
A  very  few,  a  bird  or  two, 
To  take  a  backward  look. 


EMILY  DICKINSON. 


A  host  of  poppies,  a  flight  of  swallows ; 
A  flurry  of  rain,  and  a  wind  that  follows 
Shepherds  the  leaves  in  the  sheltered  hollows, 
For  the  forest  is  shaken  and  thinned. 


EDWIN  MARKHAM. 


86 


These  are  the  days  when  skies  put  on 
The  old,  old  sophistries  of  June,  — 
A  blue  and  gold  mistake. 
Till  ranks  of  seeds  their  witness  bear, 
And  softly  through  the  altered  air 
Hurries  a  timid  leaf  ! 


EMILY  DICKINSON. 


Sand- Verbena.     West  Berkeley. 

Blue  Curls.     Dry  fields. 

Wax  Berry.  Near  Summit  reservoir,  and  North  Ber- 
keley stone-quarry. 

Rose-hips  and  Blackberry  vines.  Color-bearers  along 
the  sides  of  the  creeks. 


These  few  dear  Autumn  flowers  ! 
More  beautiful  they  are 
Than  all  that  went  before, 
Because  they  are  the  last 
Of  all  the  Summer's  store. 

ANONYMOUS. 


American  Pipit.     Abundant  in  flocks  in  open  fields. 
Birds       Oregon  Junco   (Snow  Bird). 

Lincoln's  Finch.      Fairly  common  in  winter. 
Say's  Pewee.      Moderately  common  winter  resident. 
Red-breasted  Sapsucker.      Rather  rare  winter  visitant. 
Harris's  Woodpecker.      Fairly  common  in  winter. 
Varied    Robin.       A  shy,  solitary,  but  common  winter 
visitant. 


In  the  sculptured  woodland's  leafless  aisles, 
The  robin  chants  the  vespers  of  the  year. 

ALFRED  AUSTIN. 


All  great  forms,  inanimate  or  alive,  in  time,  in  space,  or  in  mind, 
are  His  shadows  :  all  voices,  language,  music,  the  inspired  word,  the 
sounds  and  breathings  of  nature  are  His  echoes. 

MOZOOMDAR. 


88 


Shrubby  Monkey-Flower.     Steep  south  hillsides. 
Solatium  or  Nightshade.      Strawberry  Canon. 
Coffee  Berry.      Canons,  and  borders  of  thickets  in  the 
higher  hills. 


There  is  no  glory  in  star  or  blossom 
Till  looked  upon  by  a  loving  eye. 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


There's  beauty  waiting  to  be  born, 
And  harmony  that  makes  no  sound. 

MRS.  A.   D.  T.  WHITNEY. 


Winged  clouds  soar  here  and  there 

Dark  with  the  rain  new  buds  are  dreaming  of. 

PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY. 


89 


Lewis's  Woodpecker.  An  occasional  winter  visitant. 
Hutton's  Vireo.  Fairly  common  during  the  winter. 
Oregon  Towhee  (Catbird). 

Audubon's  Warbler.     A  common  winter  resident. 
Townsend's  Sparrow.      Solitary,   scratching  among   the 

leaves. 
Gambel's  White-crowned    Sparrow.      One  of   the  few 

birds  that  sing  during  the  winter. 
Golden-crowned  Sparrow.      In  song. 
Samuel's  Song   Sparrow.       Sings  at    times    during    the 

winter. 


The  sparrows  are  all  meek  and  lowly  birds.  They  are  of  the  grass, 
the  fences,  the  low  bushes,  the  weedy  wayside  places.  Nature  has 
denied  them  all  brilliant  tints,  but  she  has  given  them  sweet  and 
musical  voices.  Theirs  are  the  quaint  and  simple  lullaby  songs  of 
childhood. 

JOHN  BURROUGHS. 


Gently  and  clear  the  sparrow  sings 
While  twilight  steals  across  the  sea, 
And  still  and  bright  the  evening  star 
Twinkles  above  the  golden  bar 
That  in  the  west  lies  quietly. 

CELIA  THAXTER. 


90 


If  Winter  comes,  can  Spring  be  far  behind  ?  DCCCtttbCf 

PERCY  BYSSHE  SHELLEY. 


Toyon  or  California    Holly.      University  grounds  and 

Canon. 

Mistletoe.     Wild  Cat  Creek. 
Laurel.     Along  Strawberry  Creek,  and  climbs  in  dwarf 

form  to  top  of  Grizzly. 


Can  this  be  Christmas — sweet  as  May, 
With  drowsy  sun  and  dreamy  air, 
And  new  grass  pointing  out  the  way 
For  flowers  to  follow,  everywhere  ? 

EDWARD  ROWLAND  SILL. 


Before  beginning,  and  without  an  end, 

As  space  eternal  and  as  surety  sure, 

Is  fixed  a  power  divine  which  moves  to  good; 

In  dark  soil  and  the  silence  of  the  seeds 

The  robe  of  Spring  it  weaves. 

The  Light  of  Atia. 

EDWIN  ARNOLD. 


OD  wills  that,  in  a  ring, 
His  blessings  shall  be  sent 
From  living  thing  to  thing, 
And  nowhere  stayed  nor  spent. 


JOHN  W.  CHADWICK. 


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